Bullies
by muchmadness
Summary: DL. Someone is being mean. Bullied is the continuance of this story.
1. Chapter 1

_I don't own the characters, or Iron Man. I also don't spoil the movie; I promise._

_The date discussed takes place a few days after the most recent episode, then the story picks up a day or two after that._

* * *

Lindsay sat down uncomfortably in the plastic chair, wincing at the squeaking of the metal as she settled in. _Of course I get the broken chair. Can anything go right today?_ She set her soda on the sticky table and opened her energy bar. Six minutes for lunch was barely enough to eat anything worthy. She'd learned _that_ little gem on her first day of work.

She looked over at Alex Atlee, sitting a table away from her. She grinned at him hopefully. He grimaced at her, wrinkled his nose, and turned away. Lindsay sighed. Another failed attempt at reconciliation.

The past week, Lindsay and Alex had gone out to lunch. Lindsay had been positive of the circumstances – why on earth would Alex be interested in her romantically? She hadn't even been sure that the guy was straight. Atlee was a short man with broad shoulders and immobile hair. When he would shake his head fiercely, not a single strand would move from its place. It reminded Lindsay of an SOS pad, gnarled and stiff. It was even the color of grease – brown and icky. But he'd seemed to be nice enough – he smiled in the hallways and joked around with her.

So she'd agreed to meet him for lunch. Lindsay had been was positive that it was a date between friends. But when Atlee had called her beautiful, assumed he was paying for the lunch, walked her home, and then kissed her, Lindsay had not been so sure.

As Atlee's too-mushy lips pressed against hers, her eyes had slammed open. Stunned. She'd sat, wondering how she'd given him any signal at all that she even _wanted _to be kissed, unable to move.

She leaped into action after she felt Atlee's mouth slowly open, hinting at what the kiss could evolve into. She pressed her hands to his shoulders and slowly moved him away, eyes still shocked and open.

"Um, Alex?" Her voice had been higher than normal. Nervous.

He'd smiled gently at her.

"I'm not … I don't feel that way for you."

His jaw had set. "You gave every impression that you did," he'd said firmly.

"Uh, no. No, I didn't," she'd said softly.

"Well maybe you're just a slut," he'd said quickly, stomping off.

She'd been too shocked to answer, but she was able to see why he was so crude. She'd hurt him. She'd stared off sadly at him, had watched him hail a cab with one last glare at her, and saw him speed away in a flash of yellow.

She'd sighed and turned to her apartment building. Then she called Danny. She didn't mention the date, didn't mention the kiss. She'd been too shocked. She'd just wanted to hear his voice. They'd still been playing their little game then – tiny steps forwards, tiny steps back. Still trying to re-evaluate their relationship.

That night, they'd had the conversation that had changed things for them. She'd caved. She'd missed him too much not to take him back, despite what he'd done to her. They were still uneasy with each other. Danny was still careful to stay on his toes around her.

As she slowly snacked on her energy bar, she thought about the rumors floating around in the lab. She'd heard the first through Kendall, that Atlee had mentioned that Lindsay was a 'cold-hearted bitch with no class.'

It hadn't hurt Lindsay so much as it had made her feel bad. She hadn't been angry at Atlee. She'd decided that meant she should apologize to him. She'd found him in the locker room. She'd told him that she was in a relationship with someone, and that was the only reason she hadn't accepted the kiss. She hadn't mentioned that his breath had smelled like dead sheep.

The next rumor came through Kyle, another lab tech, who'd asked Lindsay if it was true that she gave blowjobs for money.

That was a no.

The third had come through Morgan, a sweet woman in her fifties who worked the coffee cart, who'd told Lindsay that she could quit her life of adultery and prostitution through the church, and that if Lindsay would accept Jesus into her heart, then all of her sins would be forgiven.

Lindsay had politely declined.

She was still hesitant to yell at Atlee. She wanted him to forgive her, nothing more. Maybe a slap across the face wouldn't hurt, though. But then again, Lindsay wasn't exactly a confrontational person, and unless Atlee was willing to talk to her head on, then she wasn't going to say anything to him about it. She couldn't even be sure that the rumors were from him, anyways.

She sighed and got up from her chair, dropping the energy bar wrapper into the trashcan and picking up her soda.

"Bitch," she heard him hiss as she walked past him.

She turned, opened her mouth to speak, then closed it and moved on.

When she got home that day, she threw her shoe at the wall. It made a satisfactory dent above her microwave, a small, concave circle where the heel hit. She grinned and went over to her blinking message machine.

She gasped at the number of unheard messages. How could she possibly have received seventy-four calls in one day? She hit play.

No message lasted longer than four or five seconds. She stood above the machine for the entire time, holding her mail in one hand and her keys in the other, hands hovering above the play button. The crackling sounds of each message disturbed her to an extreme level, just static and the hush of the city. As the recorded voice on the machine informed her that there were no other messages, she sat on the couch with a shaky sigh.

Could one man possibly harbor that much resentment after one simple misunderstanding? She couldn't understand it. She told herself that it wasn't possible – that it was some kind of mistake.

The shrill cry of the phone brought her out of her thoughts. Her head perked up and she stared at it for a beat, unsure of what to do.

By the third ring she whipped it off of the holder and screamed into it: "Why are you doing this?"

"_Doin' what?" _Danny asked with a laugh.

Lindsay sighed in relief. "Oh. It's just you."

"_Hey, thanks for the enthusiasm."_

Lindsay smiled. "Was it a joke? Is that why you left the messages?"

"_What messages?" _

Lindsay sat up. "N-never mind," she stuttered.

Danny was silent for a moment. _"Y'alright, Montana? Somethin' wrong?"_

"No, I'm fine. I'm fine. What were you calling about?"

"_Wanna go out tonight? You know, dinner and a movie or somethin'?"_

"Like a date?" she asked, smiling.

"_Yeah, I guess."_

"Where?"

"_That Moroccan joint near my place. Pick you up in half an hour?"_

"Um, can you come now?" her voice was shakier than she'd anticipated. She hoped he wouldn't pick up on it.

He laughed. _"Wasssa rush, Montana? Miss me already?"_

She gave a half-hearted giggle. "Something like that."

"_Be there in ten."_

She shut her phone and set it on the table.

She threw on a flowy, silky blue top, her new gold heels, and her favorite jeans and waited for Danny. He arrived quicker than he'd promised, the distinct hum of his bike announcing his presence. She hopped off her couch when she heard him approach and raced down to meet him, locking her door behind her.

She met him at the first floor, catching him just as he swung open the door.

The second she saw him, she threw her arms around him and kissed him. He was surprised at first, but recovered quickly and pressed her against the wall. He put one hand around her neck to hold her in place and the other on her breast, gently massaging her.

They stayed that way for a few minutes, making out against the wall. Finally, Danny pulled back and grinned.

"What's up?" he asked with a smirk.

She grinned back at him, holding in her irrational worries. He noticed anyways, searching her eyes and touching her cheek with a finger.

"Wassa matter, you alright?"

"I'm fine, Danny. We should go, though. Are we seeing a movie?"

"Uh, yeah, _Iron Man_," he said distractedly, eyes still searching hers.

"Great!" she said, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the bike. She pulled out his extra helmet and put it on, smiling at him.

He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should push her further or let her be. He finally resolved to deal with it later in the night. He kissed her once more before taking his own helmet and swinging a leg over the bike.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thanks for the great reviews, guys!_

* * *

By the time the movie was over, it was nearly midnight. Lindsay forced Danny to wait until after the credits to watch the last little bit of the movie.

They were the last ones in the theater, sitting right in the center of the stadium seating. Lindsay finished the last of the jujubes and stood, holding her hand out to Danny. He grabbed it and pulled extremely hard, dramatically using her to pull all of his weight up.

She laughed and fell on him, tumbling into his lap.

"You smell like candy," he snickered, teasing her neck with his lips.

"Well, that kind of makes sense," she said crossly, "You let me eat all of it."

"I _told _you I wasn't hungry. I had enough at dinner."

"OK, OK, enough," she said, leaning into his chest and resting her head on his shoulder.

He hummed his response and stroked her hair with one hand. He watched her close her eyes, for the first time noticing the dark circles there, noticeable even in the dimmed lights of the theater. "You doin' OK? You've been pretty out of it lately."

"I'm fine," she mumbled, lulled by the smooth rumbling of his voice.

"C'mon; let's get you home."

Her eyes snapped open. She sat up. "Can I stay at your place tonight?"

"You're too tired for any of –"

"No, can I just sleep there?"

"Why? What's wrong with your place?"

"Yours is just closer. I'm tired," she lied, draping her arms around his neck and pulling him to her.

He was too beat to argue. He led her out of the theater, gave her his coat in the misty air and helped her fasten the helmet. She was so tired that he worried she wouldn't be able to hang on for the ride. He clamped his elbows down around her arms just in case. She laughed at him, but he swore that she'd appreciate the gesture if she fell asleep while they were still in motion.

She fell asleep the second she lay down in his bed – wearing his old sweats and t-shirt, arms under her head, legs strewn on the covers like limp spaghetti.

"Montana. Ya gotta get up. You're on the covers."

She made no move.

He finally lifted her with one arm while he dragged the covers down with the other. Then he crawled into bed after her and tucked her into his side, letting her rest her head on his chest like he knew she loved to do. He kissed her head and decided to pull another snow day on her so she could get some rest.

* * *

The next day, with Lindsay sleeping soundly in his bed, Danny wound up at work, cataloguing 42 sets of fingerprints Sheldon had collected off of the Brooklyn Bridge.

When he heard hushed whispers behind him, he turned to see Alex Atlee speaking with Kyle, another lab tech. He nodded his head in greeting. He'd barely spoken to either of them, just nods and hellos as they passed in the halls.

He heard one of them leave, heard the other shuffling around the print lab. Finally, a rumbling of a wheeled chair vroomed towards him. He turned to his right.

"Hey, Atlee, what's up," Danny mumbled, working on his twenty-seventh print of the morning.

"Nothing, Messer. Nothing." Atlee drummed his fingers on the table. Danny was in no mood to chit-chat. After the fingerprints, he had a foot and a half tall stack of paperwork to go through. Then roughly twelve phone calls to make about a yet-unreleased flavor of jelly bean.

"Look, Atlee, I got a lotta work to get –"

"Something you should know," Atlee said, staring off through the glass walls, fingers still tapping quickly.

"Yeah, what's that?" Danny said absentmindedly, eyes transfixed by the flashing fingerprints.

"Concerning Lindsay Monroe."

Danny's eyes blinked. He turned to Atlee, frowning. "Wassa matter, she alright?"

"She's been cheating on you," Atlee said. He pursed his lips.

Danny squinted at Atlee. "Nah, I don't think so, man." He turned back to the fingerprints, having lost interest in the conversation. Lindsay wouldn't cheat on him. She would never do that.

"Believe what you want. I happen to know that she went on a date just a few days ago." Atlee stood. He patted Danny's shoulder. "I just thought you should know." Atlee sniffed and walked out, leaving Danny to stare vacantly at the computer screen.

Danny refused to even justify Atlee's statement by asking Lindsay about it. He guessed that Atlee had seen something, misunderstood it. Because Lindsay Monroe was not cheating on him.

Three hours and seven trillion pounds of paperwork later, Danny looked up to see Lindsay walk into the office, shaking her head of raindrops.

"Hey, babe," Danny said tiredly, face falling into his hands.

Lindsay looked at him and smiled sympathetically. She walked up behind him and rubbed the spot between his shoulder blades, searching for tension and easing it out.

"Maybe you needed a snow day more than me," Lindsay murmured into his hair.

Danny groaned his response as she hit a particularly fierce knot.

Lindsay's work phone rang. She kissed the top of his head and leaned for it.

"Hello?"

She heard the click of the phone. She placed it back on the receiver.

"Who was it?" Danny asked, face still buried in his hands.

"Nobody," she said quickly.

* * *

When Atlee passed her in the hall, she gave him a longing look. Because she couldn't tell him to stop. Couldn't make him forgive her.

Lindsay came home to find over eighty messages on her phone. She ripped her answering machine out of the socket and threw it at the wall, creating a new dent on her wall.

She considered calling Danny and making him show up with a movie, but changed her mind. He needed sleep anyways.

The next morning, she was awoken by her door buzzer. She went downstairs barefoot in her plaid pajamas, shivering with the cold, and signed for a Fed Ex package. An empty box.

When she stepped into her apartment, she dropped it on her kitchen table and sat, watching it. She sneezed and stared some more. She sneezed again. Finally, she stood and got a tissue. When she got back, she was mad to know that the box was still there. _Not that I was expecting it to move. It's a box. An empty box. Eccentric. Creepy._ She sneezed again.

Shivering slightly, she went to her bedroom to raise the thermostat. A quick glance at her window told her that it had snowed the past night, thick and heavy. A block of clumped snow rested on her windowsill, shimmering in the pale sunlight.

She went back into the kitchen and sat, staring at the box. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. The box was too large. It was too brown. It was too empty. It was too much for a misunderstanding.

She picked up her phone and dialed.

"_Hey."_

"Hi, Danny."

"_You called me."_

"Um, yeah. Can I stay with you for a few days?"

"_Why?"_

"Uh, my neighbor is painting his apartment. The fumes are really getting to me."

"_Really? That all?"_

"Yup."

"_Alright. Want me to come get you now?"_

"No, I'll go myself."

"_It's your day off today, right? 'Cause you could just meet me there after work. You've got a key."_

She packed her things and left quickly, bringing a big fat book on Einstein's theory of relativity to keep her entertained while she waited for him. He came home to find her curled in a ball on his couch, book propped open on her stomach. He carried her into bed, kissing her head as he pulled the covers up to her chin. She stirred and shifted, eyes blinking open. She smiled when she saw him. Then sneezed.

"Hi, Danny," she slurred.

He grinned and crawled onto bed, positioning himself on top of her with the covers providing a thick layer between them.

"So what's the _real _reason you're crashing here?" he asked, moving a strand of hair out of her face.

She turned her face away from his. "I don't want to talk about it right now."

"Should I be worried?"

She shook her head. "It's just a little misunderstanding. I'll clear it up. Just a few days and I'll be out of your hair."

"What kind of _misunderstanding_ has you leaving your own apartment?"

She hesitated. "I just need some time to think."

"And you think better here?"

"Yeah. Plus, I'm getting sick, and I'm going to need you to take care of me."

"Sick?"

"I sneezed. A lot." Danny's hand went to her forehead. She closed her eyes at the sensation - his cool palm seemed to pull all the stress and heat from her forehead, soothing her and cooling her at the same time. She suppressed a moan when he moved it away. She opened her eyes.

Danny frowned and went to his bathroom, returning with a thermometer. He popped it into her mouth and fetched a box of tissues from the kitchen, setting it on the bedside table. Then he changed into sweats and crawled into bed next to her.

When the thermometer beeped, he checked the temperature. "One hundred point two. Yup, you're sick."

She laughed. "Barely."

He kissed her cheek and pulled her to him, hugging her. "Go to sleep. I'll see if Mac'll let ya stay home tomorrow."

"That's a great idea," she said sleepily, closing her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

She had to be calm. She had to be firm. She would not screw up again. Lindsay pulled out her notes on what to say, hoping that she'd present her ideas clearly and carefully. With no mixed signals.

She looked up from her notes to see Atlee walking towards the small café where Lindsay sat, heading for her small table near the window. He entered the door, sending the sound of chimes rippling through the small room. He walked over to her table, grabbed the chair and heavily dragged it out. Lindsay sneezed.

He sat with such an angry thump that she wasn't sure if he'd hurt himself or had fallen. He crossed his arms and looked at her, his lips pursed.

"You wanted to see me?" he grunted.

Lindsay's hands fidgeted in her lap, twisting and crumpling the small paper with her notes. She was momentarily distracted by Atlee's jiggling foot, but regained her thoughts.

"Yes, I did."

"About?"

"Alex, there are some rumors going around." She paused and watched him. He made no move, except for the small twitch at the corners of his lips.

"They're really hurtful to me. I can only assume that you've been spreading them."

"Whatever would have you think that?" he asked, glaring in contrast to his too-sweet voice.

"I've heard from a number of people. I'd really appreciate it if you didn't do it again."

"Well I don't _appreciate _your accusations," he hissed, though his eyes told otherwise. Lindsay could see he was enjoying himself. He grinned to himself as he looked down at the coffee cup Lindsay had ordered for him.

"Why are you so hurt, Alex? I thought I explained myself to you. I told you – I was in a relationship. I didn't mean to send you the wrong signals. If there's something else I did, please just tell me, because I don't see how I merit this kind of treatment."

Atlee slammed his fist down on the table. Lindsay's green porcelain cup rattled menacingly. He stared at Atlee.

"Something _else? _So you think what you did wasn't bad _enough?"_

"Alex, I didn't mean –"

Atlee stood. "You were disgusting. You were sick and cruel. I thought you were a wonderful person, but you turned out to be just what you look like. A HIDEOUS bitch."

"Alex, I'm sorry you think –"

"Instead of voicing your opinions outright, you shoved me away. You _humiliated me. _Is that not enough? You made me look like a fucking IDIOT."

"Alex, nobody thinks you're an idiot. I don't think –"

He surprised her with a smack across the face. Hard. The sound resonated through the room, much like the chimes had only a few minutes before. Lindsay's hand instinctively went to cover her cheek.

Atlee leaned in to her. "You listen to me, Monroe, and you listen good. I will not be humiliated like that ever again. I am insulted by everything you've said to me today. This is not over," he hissed.

He shoved his chair away from himself and stomped out the door, leaving Lindsay and a room full of surprised coffee-drinkers behind.

A gray-haired waitress walked over to Lindsay's table, wringing her hands. "Miss?" she asked gently.

Lindsay said nothing. She stared at the door Atlee had just brushed out of.

"Miss? Can I get you something?"

"I –" Lindsay tried to speak but found no voice.

The woman walked behind the counter and pulled out a ziplock bag, then filled it with ice. She wrapped it in a thin towel and handed it to Lindsay.

"Here you go, honey. Just press it up against where it stings," she said softly.

_Impossible, _Lindsay thought.

She got home to Danny's dark apartment feeling cold and lonely. She threw her scarf onto his couch, watching as it wafted down gently. She wished she were at her place so she could throw something heavier.

She looked around at a noise to find Danny standing in the doorway behind her.

"Hey," he said, "I thought I told you to get some rest."

"You're back already?"

"Yeah; Linds, It's like six o'clock at night."

"Oh," she said softly.

"What were you doing out there? You're freezing," he said, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her to him.

"I took a walk," she said, and it wasn't really a lie. She had wandered around after meeting Atlee. If Danny was right about the time, she'd been outside for nearly three hours – wandering the streets, trying to work things out.

Danny reached behind him and turned on the light. Lindsay looked up and blinked at the sudden change in atmosphere.

"Lindsay, what happened?" Danny nearly yelled, staring at the darkening bruise on her face.

She reached her hand up to touch it, or cover it; she wasn't sure which. Danny moved her hand away gently, reaching up to finger the skin surrounding the patch of reddish-purple skin on her cheek. There was a small cut, too, nearly dried blood glistening in a short little scrape.

"Jesus, baby, you alright?" he asked, softer this time.

"I'm fine," she muttered, moving away from him to his fridge.

"No, you're not. Someone hit you – I can tell, Linds."

"Danny, stop," she said, rummaging in the fridge for something to reduce the swelling.

He moved towards her and reached for a bag of frozen peas at the back of his refrigerator. He took out his first aid kit from a drawer and helped Lindsay up to sit on the counter.

"Danny, I'm fine. It's just a bruise."

"Yeah? How'd you get it?"

"I walked into a pole going into the subway," she mumbled, watching his hands as they opened the little first aid kit.

He touched her chin and lifted her head up. "You sure? 'Cause that's not what it looks like."

"Danny, drop it," she said, struggling to push him back and move off the counter. He stopped her easily, dropping the first aid kit onto the counter and spreading his arms to block her. She pushed harder. "Danny, let me go. I'm fine."

"I gotta clean it, Montana. Can I at least do that if you're gonna lie to me?" he asked. His voice wasn't angry anymore. She could hear the sadness contained in it, seeping into her skin, touching her.

She struggled still, with less gusto, pushing on his arm. "I'm fine," she whispered.

He ignored her resistance and hugged her, pressing her face into his neck, wrapping his arms tightly around her back. She wanted so hard to cry, to sob into his shirt, but she refused to admit defeat. She refused to let Danny take over her situations. She had to stay strong. He kissed her shoulder, feeling her clutch his shirt. "Just let me clean it, now, OK?" he whispered to her hair.

She nodded.

He held her face while he rubbed the cut with antiseptic and a q-tip, cupping her unhurt cheek with one hand and caressing her with his thumb. He put a little bandaid on the cut and wrapped the peas in a towel. He held it to her cheek, murmuring his apologies when she winced at the cold and the sting of the medicine.

He made her soup for dinner, careful to let it cool before giving it to her. Before she ate, he checked her temperature again.

"Ninety-nine," he said, "It's gone down."

She didn't seem to care – simply took the spoon from his other hand and started on her soup.

He helped her get ready for bed, still uneasy to let her out of his sight. Once they'd both brushed their teeth and were crawling into bed, she spoke again.

"Danny, have I been mean to you?"

He stopped pulling back the covers and looked up at her. _Oh shit, _he thought quickly, _this is one of those chick questions – the kind where it don't matter what you answer, you're gonna get screwed. _

"I mean, have I been really, really cruel?"

That was easy for him. "God, no, Montana, you're amazing." He crawled into bed and lay down. She followed him.

"Are you sure? Because you know you can tell me." She propped herself up on the bed with one arm, eyes worried, biting on her lower lip.

"'Course I'm sure."

"What about the way I look?"

"What about it?"

"I mean, am I … am I …" She stopped. "Never mind." She sighed and flopped away from him, resting her good cheek on the pillow. _God, he's going to think I'm so vain._

"No, what? What're you talkin' about?"

"Just go to bed." Her eyes were tearing up. She wanted him to shut up so she could think by herself. She was having a hard time erasing Atlee's words from her head – they played on a loop, the worst ones echoing and sounding through her head.

"Good looking? Is that what you're askin'? If you're hot?"

"Danny, it doesn't matter. Go to bed."

He crawled over to her and wrapped his arms around her middle. He leaned close to her ear and brushed the hair away, leaning in to breathe gently on the sensitive skin. "You're sexy as hell, Montana," he whispered, and bit her earlobe gently. "Gorgeous, too." He sucked on the earlobe then kissed just below it, on her neck. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

She smiled and closed her eyes tightly, praying that the tears would sink back into her eyes. His sweet words provided a comforting end to a salty, bitter day and nearly sent her over the edge. She satisfied herself with clutching one of the hands wrapped around her stomach, bringing it up and holding it tightly against her chest.


	4. Chapter 4

The bruise swelled with the night. Danny fell asleep as best he could while holding the sweaty bag of peas to her cheek. It made her cold, which he felt terrible for, but he knew she'd be better for it in the long run.

When she awoke, her cheek was throbbing, and the bag of peas rested uncomfortably on her neck, where it had dropped once Danny had let it fall from his hand.

_I smell like peas, _she thought bitterly as she washed her neck in the shower, wincing as the hot water hit the stinging cut that sat in the middle of the purple skin on her cheek. She turned her face to look at the water, taking deep, slow breaths.

The shower was always her place to think. When she was little, she used to take showers that lasted nearly an hour, just standing beneath the water to arrange her thoughts. The shower was where she solved problems, and with one very large, stinging problem weighing on her mind, it was only natural that she slip out of bed and think under the water.

At work, she could barely concentrate, what with Atlee standing only a few feet away from her. She heard him murmuring to Kyle, giving her glances every now and then.

Danny had made her promise to stick around the lab for the day, just in case whoever hurt her came around. She considered the irony of the situation for a moment, and, briefly, felt like laughing.

"How's the little lab whore?" Atlee muttered as he swept by her to get the calcium chloride solution. "Still hurting?"

"Shut up, Atlee," Lindsay snapped. "You have no right to say that."

He looked at her, momentarily speechless.

"You've been treating me terribly," she continued, voice diminishing in strength as she saw his wounded look, "and I'd really like it if you stopped," she finished with a squeak.

Atlee's face hardened quickly and he brushed past her, 'accidentally' slamming her into the lab table. Lindsay's side was crushed into the sharp edge of the table. She winced sharply as pain radiated from the point.

She winced as she walked for the rest of the day, spending her time in chairs and on stools to avoid moving around and irritating the bruise.

She headed back to her own apartment to gather clothes, and kicked the wall hard when she saw that her message machine had overflowed – it couldn't take any more messages. She grabbed clothes and shoved them into a bag, only to find a note indicating that Fed Ex had two packages waiting for her. She groaned.

Danny's apartment was heaven – quiet, dark, and message-less. She collapsed onto the couch and fell asleep almost instantly, solving her debate on whether or not to take an aspirin for her side.

Danny nearly laughed when he saw her sprawled on his couch, her bag of clothes lying on the floor near her hand. She was facedown, head resting on her hands, one leg thrown off the couch.

He picked her up carefully and adjusted her in his arms. Her shirt rode up, exposing a line of bruising – angry and red.

"FUCK!" he swore, and brought her to the bed. She didn't react to his noise. He took off her shirt and turned her sleeping form onto its side to observe the bruise. It was right above her hip, and about three inches long. He touched it gently. Lindsay moaned in her sleep and attempted to roll away from him. He caught her and stopped her from jostling around. When he realized there was nothing he could do unless she was awake, he gave up and got ready for bed.

He dressed angrily, nearly tripping over his pants as he took them off. _She's so gonna get it in the morning, _he thought fiercely as he flopped onto the bed.

She awoke with a start and a gasp. She had just been having a nightmare about a crawling eye, a remnant of her high-school movie obsession – 1950's horror flicks. She tried to roll out of bed, but was interrupted.

"Where do ya think you're goin'?" she heard Danny ask, aggravated and cross.

She turned to him. He had looked up from his magazine and was staring at her, brow furrowed.

"I was going to take a shower," she said softly, the sound of sleep still evident in her tone.

"First, you're gonna explain that bruise."

"I banged into a table at work," she said.

He knew it was, to some extent, true, but it wasn't enough for him. "You musta banged it pretty damn hard."

"I did."

He sighed and threw his head back in frustration. "Linds, you're killin' me here."

"What am I doing?" She asked, her tone hard and defensive.

"You aren't telling me anything! I know you're lying, I know that. You're hidin' everything. I can't … _do_ this if you aren't open with me."

"Like you were with me?" she asked, her voice cool and soft.

He threw the magazine down onto the floor and got up, shaking the bed with his movements. "Here we go again. I get it. I screwed up. I hurt you. I'm sorry. You gonna hold it over my head forever?"

"YES!" She screamed and got up. She headed for the bathroom. "And if you can't let me have my privacy, then fine. We're over. We're done."

"Fine!" he shouted, and went to the kitchen, slamming the door as he went.

Lindsay went into the bathroom, fists clenched, teeth gritted. She slammed the door behind her, an echo of Danny's actions only moments before.

She'd barely taken off her shirt before the door slammed open.

"Linds – I didn't mean it, Linds – we can't be over, please," he whimpered, kneeling before her. His eyes were pleading; he grabbed her hands as though he was trying to hold her back where they once were.

She stared at him, shocked. "I …"

"I'm sorry, Linds. You're hurt. I can't stand that. Please just tell me who. Please, Linds, tell me who it is." He sounded like he was about to start crying as he stood there, holding her hands and kneeling before her.

"I can't yet," she whispered. The hurt deepened in his eyes. "Danny, I will. Just not now."

He took what she offered him, because he couldn't be without her. But later, when he walked into the break room to find her kissing Kyle, the lab tech, he saw that he already was.


	5. Chapter 5

_Please don't hurt me. _

* * *

Lindsay had been mixing coffee when she'd heard the voice behind her.

"Hey, Monroe."

The voice had hidden a smirk, but not in the way she'd been used to. While the voice she'd expected was soft and gentle as well as gruff, this one had been too edgy, too crude.

She'd turned into him, had been pressed right up to the counter, and then the lips. They'd pressed to hers, her second unwanted smooch that week. Atlee's had been too mushy, while these lips were too harsh. Kyle's were chapped and he'd completely missed her mouth. The kiss had landed on the left side of her face, such that when Danny walked by, all he'd seen was his girlfriend's side and the back of Kyle's head.

What caught Danny's eye the most was the way their bodies were so close, meshed so much that he'd wondered where Lindsay ended and Kyle began. His mouth dropped and Kyle backed away, grinning.

Lindsay stared at Kyle, her lips still pressed firmly together. Her eyes were wide and terrified, asking what the hell just happened.

Danny cleared his throat.

Lindsay turned to him, seeing him for the first time. "Oh, Danny, it's not what you –"

Danny raised his hands signaling surrender, and walked away. Lindsay raced out of the room after him.

"Danny- Danny! Get back here! Let me explain, please –"

Danny whipped around. "No, it's fine. Linds, I get it. I cheated on you, you do the same to me. I'm not mad, just hurt. Let me deal with it. I get it."

"DANNY! Stop – Get back here!"

He didn't stop for her, just walked to the stairway and ran down the steps.

Lindsay chased after him, wind cooling the tears that dripped from her eyes. She raced down the steps after him, screaming his name. If he heard her, he gave no response, merely raced ahead of her and left the building.

When she got to the first floor, he was nowhere to be seen. She ran out to the street and looked both ways, but Danny Messer had disappeared.

She groaned. She stood, watching the cars honk and pass, brushed to and fro by pedestrians.

She whipped out her phone and left him a hurried message, detailing exactly what had happened in the breakroom before he'd entered. She told him she loved him, that it had nothing to do with the cheating, that she wanted him to please just meet her at her place after she got off shift.

She left a similar message on his home phone. She e-mailed him once she got back to her office.

Then she went to find Kyle.

He was waiting for the elevator when she found him, leaning next to the buttons. She shoved him back into the wall.

"What the hell were you doing?" she screamed.

He smirked. "I heard you wanted it."

"From WHO?"

"Who do you think?" he asked.

"What do you think gives you the right to do something like that? I never gave you any indication that I wanted that. What is wrong with you?"

He didn't respond. The smile, however, did, and was swept off of his face.

"Bastard!" Lindsay grunted, and shoved him again, banging Kyle's head on the hard plaster of the wall.

When she went home, her arms were crossed so tightly across her chest that she had trouble breathing. She opened her door with a smack and slammed it behind her. She dropped her purse heavily and pounded her fist against the wall in anger.

The tears came easily then, once she was in her own apartment. She sobbed at the wall, clutching her fists, and moaned and sobbed.

"What's wrong, Monroe?" asked Atlee, sitting comfortably on her living room chair.

She stopped crying abruptly, opting instead to glare at him. "You," she hissed, "you did this because I wouldn't go out with you?"

He shrugged. "Not really."

"Then why?" she asked, advancing on him slowly. "Why all of this?"

"You chose him over me. You chose the guy they always pick. Girls always do that," he said, giving a chuckle, "they always chose the sexy jerk. What about the nice guys?"

"You're not a nice guy," she said slowly, "_you're_ a jerk. A cruel, hyper-sensitive _asshole_."

"I disagree, Lindsay," he said conversationally.

"You hit me. You spread rumors about me. Insulted me. You hurt me in more ways than I can mention. Tell me, am I missing something?" her voice rose and fell as she swung between fierce anger and fear.

"You deserved it all," he said, rising from the chair.

"I did not. I did not deserve any of it."

"You deserved all of it, and more."

"What more can you do?" she asked, the tears returning, "You took my reputation, my privacy, the man I love – what else is there?" she whimpered.

He picked up the knife he'd been hiding between the cushions.

When Danny walked up her stairs, two at a time, he was already planning his apology. _Lindsay, I'm so sorry I didn't let you explain. We'll deal with Kyle later, but now I just want to tell you how sorry I –_

A scream interrupted his thoughts. It was a feral shriek, one that struck him deep in his bones and scared the shit out of him. He moved faster than he had been, heading straight for her door, where he was sure the scream had come from.

He opened the door to see his girlfriend lying on the ground, blood seeping from her stomach, as a bleeding, wincing Alex Atlee stood above her, holding a bloody knife.

Danny's first priority was Lindsay. He knew that. But how he saw it, she was still in danger. So he tackled Atlee to the ground easily and cracked the man's head against the hard surface, effectively rendering him unconscious.

He kicked the knife from Atlee's grasp and turned to Lindsay. He pressed the wound on her stomach with one hand while he dialed with the other. The ambulance had an ETA of under five minutes, but it felt to Danny like five thousand years.

"Baby, no, baby, please wake up, Montana, please, please, I still have to say sorry, still have to say –" he broke into a sob, pressing his hand harder – "I still haven't said it enough, I haven't told you I love you enough, Montana, please, it's not enough."

She groaned and he cupped her cheek. "Please, Montana, just do this thing for me. Just stay here, stay … stay here. I'll do whatever you want, just don't leave me."

The blood seeped through his fingers, but he fought back, pressing on her belly.

When the paramedics got there, they looked between the two prone bodies lying on the ground, as if deciding which to take.

"She goes first," Danny grunted, and helped them slide Lindsay onto a cot.

Flack had heard the call, and arrived not long after the paramedics.

As Lindsay was brought down in the elevator, Danny gave Atlee a kick. The man groaned. Danny kicked him again. He lifted the unconscious body and gave him a swift punch to the face. He saw that Lindsay had fought back – there were scratch marks all up and down the arms, a bleeding hole where a tooth was in his mouth, and Atlee's arm was at an unnatural angle.

But that didn't stop Danny. He socked the guy hard again and again until Flack dragged him off.

"Calm down, Danny. Just stay calm. She needs that. Go to the hospital."

"They've already left," Danny spat.

"Then we'll follow them," Don said, signaling to the two officers standing near the door to watch Atlee until the second ambulance arrived.

Don followed the ambulance closely, racing in the wake of the siren. Danny clutched the door handle, prepared to jump out the second they arrived.

"She'll be alright," Don whispered to Danny, barely audible under the ringing of the two sirens.

"Shoulda killed him," Danny said grimly, "I shoulda killed him."

"Look, man, you almost _did_. So just focus on her right now. She needs you."

Four hours later, when Lindsay was out of surgery and tucked securely in a hospital bed, Danny still couldn't focus. Don had told him that Atlee was at a different hospital, but hadn't mentioned which one. Danny knew he could logic out, based on the proximity of other hospitals, which one Atlee was staying at.

Maybe when Lindsay was better. Because she _would _get better. When she was better, he'd figure it out, and then he'd finish the job. Then he'd teach Kyle a lesson.

_When she wakes up, _he thought desperately, _I'll do that when she's awake. _He watched the still form in front of him, her face framed by the artificial lighting and white sheets of the bed.

He took her hand and kissed it, wetting it with his tears. _As soon as she wakes up._


	6. Chapter 6

"Did you have any idea he could do such a thing?" Stella asked Mac quietly as they stared at Lindsay through the glass of her hospital room.

Mac shook his head. "I hate to sound like an oblivious idiot, but he seemed like such a nice guy."

Stella pursed her lips. "I mean, I heard rumors about … Lindsay doing things."

Mac nodded. "Me, too. They were ridiculous, though. I brushed them off."

Stella swallowed the lump in her throat. "So did I. They sounded too insane to be true, you know? I thought everyone would think so."

They were silent, watching the scene before them. It was a picture that seemed to be frozen in time. What should be a brief second was lasting hours. Danny sat, hunched over in his chair, with Lindsay's hand in both of his. Neither had moved in hours. The only movement was the occasional tear that slipped down Danny's cheek, or the soft brushing of his thumb against her hand.

Neither Stella nor Mac dared go in, fearful they'd disrupt something, break her, shatter the crystal glass fragility of the moment.

Hawkes walked up behind them, tapping Mac on his shoulder.

"I got the results back."

Mac nodded and took the file from his hand.

"It was as we assumed," Sheldon continued, "Atlee's fingerprints on the weapon. The knife was taken from his home. It matches a set of knives in his kitchen."

"Did you check on Atlee?"

Sheldon nodded. "Four broken ribs, a missing tooth, broken cheekbone, spiral fracture of his arm, give or take a couple of scratches and bruises."

"Danny did all of that?"

"No. Danny said when he got there, Atlee's arm was already bent oddly, and a tooth was missing. DNA under Lindsay's fingernails confirms that she was the one who scratched him up."

"She fought back," Stella said softly, crossing her arms in front of her. She glanced over at Lindsay, lying on the bed.

"I can't believe this is happening," Sheldon muttered, partially to himself.

"How's Lindsay?" Mac asked. "Will she be all right?"

"The stab wound wasn't too deep. It's the concussion the doctors are worried about. It seems Atlee pushed her to the ground and she hit her head pretty hard."

"Hawkes!" Danny yelled, "Get in here!"

Sheldon brushed past Mac and jogged over to Lindsay, who was blinking and squeezing Danny's hand.

Danny talked to her while Sheldon checked the tubes and bags attached to her, testing her reflexes, checking her stitches.

"Lindsay, do you know where you are?" he asked slowly.

She blinked. She felt hands on her, bending her knees and fiddling with a sharp twinge on the top of her hand. She opened her mouth but found it too dry to speak. She opened and closed it, trying to gather enough moisture to talk.

She looked around and calmed when her eyes settled on Danny. She felt his hand on hers and breathed slower, though raspy and shallow.

"She looks fine," Hawkes said gently, giving one last glance at her heart rate, "But I'm going to go tell her doctor to come take a look."

Danny nodded, and watched Hawkes jog out of the room.

He brushed Lindsay's hair back and kissed her forehead. "Thank God," he whispered to her.

"Water?" she asked, her voice low and cracked. Danny grabbed a glass and filled it, then brought his hand around her body to lift her. He helped her hold it and poured it into her mouth.

He helped her lay down and sat with her while the doctor checked her over. He took blood and checked her chart.

An hour later, Danny and Lindsay sat, staring at each other, still unable to speak.

Finally, Lindsay mustered up the breath. "Did you get my messages?"

Danny nodded. "I shoulda known you wouldn'ta done that. You don't do stuff like that. Jesus, Linds, I'm so sorry."

She waved it away weakly with her hand and smiled at him. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Whatcha thankin' me for?"

"You saved me."

"From what I can see, you were doin' pretty well. You knocked his tooth out and scratched him up pretty good, baby."

Her lower lip trembled. "He almost killed me, Dan."

"I wouldn'ta let that happen. Ever."

"I couldn't defend myself."

Danny shook his head. "Don't go there, Montana. It wasn't a fair fight. He's bigger than you, and he had a knife. You did the best you could. Better, even."

"Where is he?"

"Atlee? Hospital."

She took in a breath and turned her head away to let the tears fall onto the pillow. "Did you …"

"I roughed him up a bit," Danny admitted. "Not enough, though."

"What's going to happen?" Lindsay asked.

The ambiguity of the question took Danny by surprise. He took a moment to gather his thoughts. "Well, you're gonna get outta here in a couple of weeks. You'll live with me 'til you can be on your own. Atlee's goin' to jail. We'll push for life without parole. Case is solid."

"And Kyle?"

"I'll deal with him."

She grinned weakly at him. "I'm tired."

"Ya kiddin' me? You slept for seven hours, Linds."

"What time is it?"

"It's five in the morning."

"What are you doing awake? Go to sleep, Danny. You look exhausted."

He laughed at her, lying with a heavy bandage on her stomach and an IV in her arm, rebuking him for his lack of sleep. He agreed to sleep if she did, and crawled into her skinny bed, curling himself around her.

"Wake me up if I hurt you," he said sleepily, and closed his eyes.

* * *

When he woke up, Danny kissed her head and went to find her doctor to find out when he could take her home. The doctor said that Lindsay would be up and back to normal in about five weeks, though her stab wound might twinge now and then. He said that Lindsay was doing well, and would be out of the hospital in a few days.

Once Stella promised to sit with Lindsay until he came back, Danny headed to Lindsay's apartment to pick up some of her clothes. He didn't expect Hawkes and Adam to still be processing the scene.

"Hey," he called hoarsely as he stepped under the tape.

Hawkes gave him a small smile and continued photographing the dents on Lindsay's wall.

"He push her into the wall?" Danny asked.

Hawkes shrugged. "Doesn't seem that way. These seem old – the plaster dust that would have fallen has been cleaned up already."

"Huh," Danny grunted. "I'm just gonna get some of her clothes."

Adam nodded and continued his work with the answering machine.

Danny headed back into her bedroom. He felt relaxed the second he stepped in, inundated by memories of the two of them, lying in her bed, tangled in the sheets. He smiled at her shoes, neatly lined in her closet as though ready to march – her OCD manifesting itself. He picked out her comfort clothes – sweats and yoga pants, baggy t-shirts and soft sweaters. He folded them neatly and arranged them in a duffel bag, aware that if they weren't neat, Lindsay would have his head.

He nodded goodbye to Adam and Sheldon and headed back for the hospital. As he walked out the door, his eyes caught on a bloody handprint – his own. He wasn't sure whose blood was on it – probably a mixture of the two. The victim and the attacker, mingled on his hand.

He walked out to the car straighter and colder than he'd been earlier, and he couldn't stop himself from slamming his fist against the wall of her building, letting the guilt and pain bleed from his knuckles.


	7. Chapter 7

_I wrote this with Mario Cart playing in the background. Attribute all errors to that. _

"Don't even think about it, Montana," Danny commanded, giving her a glare.

"I can walk just fine," she retorted, attempting to wriggle out of her seat.

"No. Stay sitting there until I come around to getcha." He quickly hopped out of the car, slamming the door behind him, and jogged over to her side. He opened the door as she was fiddling with the seatbelt.

"Can't get the stupid thing open," she huffed, attempting to twist without popping her stitches.

Danny grabbed her hand and moved it. He un-clicked the belt and lifted her out of the car. He managed to shut the door with his foot and press the button on the key with one hand while keeping Lindsay steady. She barely jostled as he took her up to his apartment and set her up in his bed.

Not more than four minutes after he put her down, she slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed and began to push herself up.

"Woah, there, Linds, slow down."

"I'm hungry."

"Then I'll get you food. Whatcha want?"

"I can get it myself."

"You were stabbed two days ago. Can you at least wait two more until you strain yourself, or do I have to handcuff you to the bed?"

"Would that be so bad?" she asked sweetly, her eyes glinting.

Danny's eyes widened, then he frowned. "Nice try, Montana. Now quit it. What do you want to eat?"

She blew hard out of her mouth and settled back into the pillows. "A sandwich."

"What kind?"

"Can I please just go into the kitchen?"

Danny sighed. "Fine. I'll take you to the couch in the living room, and you can 'command' me from there. Got it?"

She smiled happily and stretched out her arms to him.

* * *

He made a chicken salad sandwich, per her request, and helped her sit comfortably on the couch to eat it. She sat happily, eating it, her feet in his lap, her back resting against the side of the couch.

When she'd finished, she set the plate on the table and flicked her eyes up to meet his.

"So…" he started.

"Yes?" she prompted.

"When are you gonna give us a statement?"

She sighed and leaned back further. "Later. Not now."

"C'mon, baby, it'll be really easy. Just tell Stella or Hawkes or even Mac what happened."

She frowned.

"You know how it is. We can kinda figure it out, but I ain't a psychic here. None of us are. We need your help."

"I don't want to tell them yet."

"You gotta do it soon."

She peeked her head up. "Can I just tell you? Really quickly?"

"I need the whole story, Linds, it's not gonna go 'really quickly.'"

"You're going to be mad if I tell you the whole thing," she admitted sheepishly.

"I'm already mad. At Atlee and Kyle."

"I did some stuff, too."

"Not possible."

"What?"

"There's nothing you coulda done to measure up to what happened to you. So just tell me, already."

She flashed him a grin, then started began slowly.

"I went out to lunch with Alex. It was … nice. But at the end he … um …"

"Kissed you?"

She nodded.

"Huh. OK. Keep goin'."

"I pushed him away and told him that I didn't feel that way about him."

"You didn't just tell him we were goin' out?"

She winced.

"Sorry. Not important. Keep goin'."

"No, it is. This was before. Remember the night I called you? About what we were doing with each other?"

"The night we got back together? Yeah, I do." That night had been one of the best of his life. He'd done a wild happy dance, turned up the music loud, had slept through the night for the first time in weeks.

"It was that day. Right before. Anyways, I told him that I didn't feel that way about him, and he wasn't exactly pleased."

"What did he do?" Danny asked softly.

"He was mad, justifiably, and told me that he thought I was interested in him. I said I wasn't. He left."

"He just left?"

"Um, he said some stuff. But that's not important."

"What did he say?" Danny started rubbing her legs, comforting and soothing her.

"He called me some names."

"What names?"

"He said I was a slut. And a … um … a 'cold-hearted bitch.'" Danny shifted on the couch, a grimace on his face. "But I didn't hear the latter directly," she added quickly. "There were rumors. A lot of them. Kyle bought it. He thought I gave blowjobs for money."

"Little prick," Danny grunted.

"I apologized to Alex for sending mixed signals, but –"

"What the hell did you apologize for?"

"Well, I … I …"

"You never did anything. You turned him down. Guys get used to that. He shoulda just taken it. You didn't have to apologize."

She sat silently for a moment, mulling it over. "So you think … you don't think I did anything wrong?"

"If you've been thinkin' that, then you're crazy. You did everything right. This guy, Atlee, he's psycho, and it's probably my fault I didn't see that. He told me some stuff that I shoulda suspected."

The color drained from Lindsay's face. "What did he say to you?"

Danny leaned over and kissed her hard, stroking the side of her face with one hand and holding himself above her wound with the other. He pulled away and smiled at her. "Nothin' I believed, Linds. Stop worrying."

She flashed him a smile and stared absentmindedly at him for a beat before continuing. "He started leaving messages on my home phone. Just five seconds or so of silence. He sent empty boxes to my apartment."

"Why?"

"I think it was like I'd promised something and didn't give it."

"Didn't put out?" Danny asked, clenching his fist in his jeans. It was getting progressively more difficult for him to listen to the story. What hurt him the most was that he'd been there for all of it, and hadn't picked up on a single thing. Worse, even, was that he'd left her when she needed him the most.

Lindsay nodded. "Then I went out to meet with him, to get things straight – you know, lay it all out. I asked if there was something I'd done that I wasn't aware of, and he … he … he hit me."

"That was the day you came home with the bruise?"

"Yeah. He said that I was cruel. That I was mean." The words rolled out of her mouth faster than she intended – she hadn't planned on telling Danny this. It didn't help with the case, it didn't matter. It wasn't that she believed it all, necessarily, but rather that the words stung deep inside of her. She choked back a sob and kept going. "He said I was hideous and that I … I was …" she openly sobbed then, clutching one hand to her bandage to keep it in place.

"No, honey, that's not true," Danny murmured soothingly, "You can't listen to him."

She snorted. "I kinda had to."

Danny shook his head and rubbed her leg gently. "Whatever he said to you was –"

"Are you mad about the date?"

"No. God, no. You didn't know it was a date. Wait, is that why you didn't tell me?"

She nodded, sniffling.

"Well that's ridiculous. You know I could never be mad at you. Not for somethin' like what happened."

She smiled through bleary vision.

"You tired? You gotta be tired. I'm gonna bring you to bed, yeah?"

She gave a watery giggle. "Bed, couch, bed, couch. Is that what it's going to be like for the next week?"

Danny snorted as he lifted her. "Week? Try seven."

He tucked her into bed and gave her a kiss on her head before leaning down to whisper in her ear. "You're the sweetest person I've ever met. And you're gorgeous and not even close to a slut. And that's the god's honest truth."

She smiled. He felt her soft expulsion of breath against his cheek, soft and caressing. She brought her hand up to his cheek and stroked it gently.


	8. Chapter 8

"And you're never gonna do it again, right?" Danny hissed in Kyle's ear as he shoved him against the brick wall again.

"Gno," Kyle muttered, the blood dripping from his nose impeding his speech.

"Good," Danny grunted, and let go of Kyle.

Kyle dropped down to the floor, cradling his arm. He looked up at Danny, whose teeth were gritted, his hands still fisted. Panting, Danny bent down and pulled up the hood of Kyle's sweatshirt. He wiped his bloody fists on the fabric and gave it a shove back to Kyle for good measure.

"I'm glad we got this cleared up," Danny said, still breathing heavily. Kyle barely had enough strength to muster a response. He grunted and leaned on the wall.

Suffice it to say, the past hour had been one of the worst in Kyle's life. He had been sure that Danny was going to kill him. Danny had found him as he had been heading into his apartment. Suddenly Kyle was dragged back and slugged in the face before he even knew what was happening.

"So you're gonna apologize to her," Danny said, brushing his leather jacket off, "You're gonna call her on the phone and say you wanna meet her, so's you don't scare her. Then you're gonna meet her and you're gonna say sorry for all the shit you've put her through, and you're gonna mean it. Am I right?"

Kyle nodded.

Danny smirked. "Great. And don't forget – I'll be watching."

He turned around, hopped back on his motorcycle, and left.

* * *

"Where have you been?" Lindsay asked angrily when Danny came home. "I've been waiting up for hours!"

"What are you doing out of bed?" Danny asked, nervous and fidgety. He watched her holding herself up on the couch with a hand pressed to her stomach, over the bandage.

Lindsay eyed him suspiciously. "What did you do?"

"Nuthin'," Danny grunted. "How about some dinner? You have dinner yet? 'Cause I can make you somethin'. How about some chicken? I'm gonna go make you some chicken."

He carefully lifted her, ignoring her protests, and laid her down on the couch. She eyed the red flesh on his knuckles, fully aware that he'd been in a fight.

He silently prepared her dinner and gave it to her with a glass of milk.

"Please don't do this," she said quietly.

"Do what? What am I doing?"

"Don't keep things from me."

He sighed and lay back on the couch. "I'm sorry."

She waited expectantly for a while, watching him and waiting for him to tell her. He just kept his eyes closed and put a hand on his forehead.

Maybe it was the pain in her stomach, maybe the painkillers made her weepy, maybe it was the way she kept thinking about how much she missed Montana, or maybe it was because he wasn't telling her anything. It could have been any number of things. But she started crying nonetheless. She couldn't do too much of it, because each sob sent pain shooting from her stab wound.

"Baby, are you crying?" Danny asked, his eyes snapping open. He sat up and moved closer to her. She backed away, putting a hand up to stop him.

"Jesus, Linds, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry; please don't cry. I went to see Kyle, OK? That's it. I just didn't want to freak you out. Please don't cry, please?"

Lindsay shook her head. "I'm fine," she blubbered, still sliding away from him on the couch. "I'm fine."

"Honey, no, c'mere," Danny murmured, opening his arms to her.

"Stop," she said, "don't. I'm fine. Just leave me for a while and I'll be OK."

He ignored her and took her foot, dragging her over to him. He wrapped her in a hug and kissed her head. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"That's not … whatever, it's fine," she sniffled.

"Somethin' else?" He asked, grinning down at her.

"My stitches itch."

He kissed her head, because he knew there was really nothing else he could do. He was about to grab the pain pills off of the counter when the phone rang.

Danny's eyes widened. "Uh, maybe we shouldn't …"

But Lindsay grabbed the phone anyways. "Hello?" she said.

Danny quickly mimed for her to put the phone down, or hang up.

"I'm fine thank you, Kyle," she said into the receiver.

Danny threw his hands up in defeat and lifted the plates. He washed them slowly as he listened to the conversation; or, rather, half of it.

"That's … very nice of you, Kyle."

Danny swirled the dishrag around the plate, sweeping off the remnants of Lindsay's dinner.

"Oh, you don't have to do that … that's very sweet."

_Yes he fuckin' did. He shoulda done it without me askin'. He should never 'a talked to her in the first place the way he did, much less think he could kiss her, _Danny thought fiercely. He realized that he was clenching the fork in his hand too tightly, and looked down to see the indent of the tines in his palm.

"Thank you. I forgive you."

_I TOLD him to meet with her. What kind of apology is over the phone? What's she thinkin', forgiving him?_

He heard the click of the phone.

"Danny, what on earth did you say to him?"

Danny turned around to see her glaring over the couch at him. He walked over to her, drying his hands on a dishtowel, and sat down next to her.

"We, uh, we had a little chat."

"About what?"

"Manners."

"Really?" She said, smiling sarcastically at him, "Because when I talk to people, I don't punch them in the face."

"He say that?"

She frowned. "No, Danny, but I can see you beat someone up. And Kyle didn't exactly sound… you know."

"He didn't sound like he meant it?"

"No, I'm sure he did. He just didn't sound like he was in perfect health. He couldn't talk very well."

Danny smirked despite himself.

"Are you _proud_ of yourself, Daniel?" Lindsay snapped.

Danny nodded, still with his smug look. "Well, kinda," he added as an afterthought, "He was supposed to apologize in person."

"He could always do it at work."

"Nope. Mac fired him."

Lindsay's eyes went wide. "You're kidding."

Danny shook his head. "He also set up a bunch of required classes up for some of the guys on preventing sexual harassment."

"Wow," she whispered.

"Yeah."

"Do _you_ have to go to the classes?"

Danny nodded. "So do Flack, Hawkes, and Adam."

"Woah. That's a pretty intense … consequence, I guess you could say."

"You're exempt, obviously, 'cause you're on medical leave. But we've all gotta do it. The girls have the same class. It's not co-ed."

"That's kind of strange."

He shrugged. "You ready for bed? 'Cause it's getting late, and you're not exactly in the best of health."

She nodded and let him lift her to the bed. He tucked her in and kissed her, whispering, just as he had the night before, that she was sweet and wonderful and beautiful. He'd have given anything to wipe Atlee's words from her head, to render her a self-confident woman again. He wished that they could add Psychological Trauma to the list of Atlee's crimes. The trial was coming up soon, a high-profile case. Atlee had received a lot of media attention, and the case had brought up workplace dating rules and standards. Danny sighed and brushed Lindsay's hair back with his hand, smoothing her cheek with his thumb.


	9. Chapter 9

_Note: I am making up so much medical stuff that it's kind of ridiculous. Anyone who knows anything about anything, just take a brief leave from reality. I'm not talking unicorns or anything, but it gets a little hinky._

* * *

Lindsay popped her pain pills in her mouth and swallowed a big gulp of water. Her doctor had put her on different pills starting that day, a different type completely. She hoped it did _something _for the pain in and around her stitches. Maybe it would fix the nagging pain in her chest, and the sneezing jag that started up now and then.

_Someday, they'll come up with an all purpose pill, _she thought wistfully, _one that'll just take care of anything… _She was tired of keeping this pill and that pill straight.

She sneezed and closed the medicine cabinet.

Danny came in and slammed the door behind him.

She yelled out her greeting and got no response. She opened the door to find him on the couch, holding a cold beer to his forehead with his eyes closed.

"What's up?" she asked. She walked slowly over to him. He got up to help her. She tried to shoo him away, but he ignored her. He laid her down on the couch with her head pillowed in his lap.

"You take your new pills?" he asked, closing his eyes again and replacing the beer.

"Yes," she said. "They should kick in about a half hour from now." She felt a sneeze coming on and turned away from Danny's stomach and covered her nose.

"Still got that cold?" Danny asked.

Lindsay sneezed in response.

"Guess so," Danny chuckled. He guessed that it was sticking around because her body was working on healing the gaping hole in her stomach.

"I sent Flack home, before you ask. If that's what you're worried about. By the way, what's got you so worried?" she asked. She was feeling a little woozy.

"I got some … uh … sorta bad news."

"What is it?" Lindsay asked. Danny cleared his throat and took a sip of the beer. He opened his eyes and stared down at her, reaching a hand out to softly brush the hair out of her face. "Danny, you're freaking me out a little," she said.

"We can't work together and have a relationship, Linds."

Lindsay's eyes opened wide. "Oh."

"Yeah," Danny snorted. He took another swig of the beer. His sexual harassment awareness class had informed him of all work-friendly relationships. When the teacher had explained that co-workers could not have any form of sexual relationship, he had given a quick, reflexive look at Mac, who was sitting two seats over. Mac hadn't moved, hadn't reacted in any particular way. Danny was dreading going into work the next day, when he'd planned to speak to Mac about the obvious breach of protocol.

"So … which one are we going to chose? Work or relationships?"

Danny blinked and looked back down at Lindsay, who was smiling up at him sneakily.

"Clown," he muttered. "Look, I'm gonna get some rest. You wanna come to bed with me?"

"I've got to go to the bathroom. I'll be in in a minute." She planned on splashing her face with cold water to alleviate the dizziness that had recently struck her.

Danny helped her up and sent her on her way to the bathroom, where she finally succeeded in shooing him off. He kissed her head and walked to the bedroom.

He flopped down on the bed and kicked off his shoes. He was at work unzipping his jacket when he heard the thump from the bathroom. "Linds?" he called out, "You alright in there?"

When he got no response, he got up and headed over. He turned the doorknob and pushed at the door, but found it blocked by some sort of weight.

"Lindsay, open the door," he said, his voice suddenly commanding and serious.

She gave no response.

Danny finally pushed the door open and slid in, only to find Lindsay, bleeding from a cut on her head, unconscious on the floor.

Danny dropped to his knees and pulled out his cell phone simultaneously. He called 911 quickly and checked her pulse. He found a slow one on her neck, then leaned in to check her breathing.

"_911, what's your emergency?" the operator asked._

"My girlfriend passed out; she's recovering from a stab wound, she has a slow pulse and she's not breathing," Danny said quickly. He gave the address and told them to hurry before hanging up and starting CPR.

"'C'mon, Linds, this isn't funny," he muttered, praying that it was some terrible joke she was playing. He pushed on her chest and breathed for her.

She regained her breath but not her consciousness, and when the paramedics arrived, they found a terrified Danny ordering her to stay alive.

* * *

"How is she?" Sheldon asked breathlessly as he breezed into the emergency room.

Danny looked up from his hands. "I dunno, man, I dunno."

"I was two minutes away when I heard – I'm going to go talk to the doctor, OK? Everything's going to be fine, Danny," he said, clapping Danny on the shoulder.

Sheldon returned a few minutes later and slumped next to Danny. "She had a reaction to the new medication," he explained, "or, at least, they think so. They pumped her stomach."

"Was she allergic?" Danny asked, his voice sounding strangled and tired.

"They won't know until her tox results come back," Hawkes explained, "there's a chance she took something by accident which reacted with the drug."

Danny nodded and buried his face in his hands again.

They waited for hours and hours. Flack and Stella were stuck at a crime scene, Mac had duties at the lab. For four agnozing hours, Danny and Sheldon sat in complete oblivion to what Lindsay was going through. Finally, Danny heard his name.

"Detective Messer?" a doctor asked, "May I see you for a moment?"

Danny got up and walked over to the slight young woman in the lab coat. He wondered if she was barely out of college, barely fit to take care of his Montana. He was about to make a snide remark when the woman spoke, expertly and quickly.

"It seems that Detective Monroe has been dosed with an airborne form of TB. We've never seen this particular strain before," the woman explained. "We're going to have to test you as well. We've never seen this form before – she seems to have breathed it in through her nose. It's affected her sinuses."

"Jesus," Danny muttered, running his hand over his face. "Is she – I mean, she'll be OK, right?"

The doctor nodded. "It doesn't seem to be as serious as other types of Tuberculosis that we have seen, or transmitted the same way. It wasn't what caused her to pass out, at any rate."

"Then, why –"

"She was allergic to the medication, as we guessed. Have you had any symptoms like she has? Excessive sneezing? Mild temperature?"

Danny shook his head. "What did … um, what did it do to her?"

"We're not exactly certain," the doctor admitted, showing the first sign of weakness yet, "It seems to have affected her as a persistent cold. We can treat it with antibiotics, but we will have to test the people she's come into contact with recently."

"How long has she had it?" Danny asked nervously. He realized that Lindsay had been in relative isolation since the stabbing, rarely leaving the apartment. If she'd been infected before then, there were any number of people who could have contacted it.

"We suspect that it's been in her system for a little more than a week. It hasn't had enough time to spread through other parts of her body, considering how weak the organism was when it entered."

Danny thought hard. _Over a week ago? We went to the movies … Iron Man … I woulda got it, too, if it was that … she moved in with me the night after that, to get her head straight… It musta happened that day. Otherwise, I woulda got it, too._

"Hawkes," Danny said hoarsely. Sheldon looked up and walked over to him. "We gotta check her apartment again. She got some form of TB there."

Sheldon nodded and headed out. He got to Lindsay's apartment quickly, and put on full protective gear. He was aware that if there had been something, he and Adam would have become sick much earlier. Most likely, the organism had died.

Sheldon found the empty Fed Ex box in Lindsay's trash can. He'd passed over it earlier, assuming it to be something personal of Lindsay's. Besides, why check Lindsay's trash? He and Adam had been investigating a stabbing, not a biological attack. What worried him was how a living organism had made it through the mail.

He brought the box back to the lab and analyzed it. He checked the results against Lindsay's results, which had been sent over by Danny a few minutes earlier.

Once the results came through, he studied the dead organism. It had been altered slightly. Clearly someone with knowledge in biology or chemistry would had to have created it. He felt a sinking feeling when he realized who the culprit must have been.

* * *

"Are you certain?" Mac asked.

"Yes. The TB could not have lived more than four hours. Lindsay is the only one infected. Danny was tested, just as a precaution, but results were negative," Sheldon said.

Mac frowned. "And the package was definitely meant for her?"

Sheldon nodded. "Mac, it sounds just like him. There were two more packages, both unopened, both of which contained a much more sinister version of the bacteria. He was trying to kill her. I'm sure of it. He wanted to take his time, infect her with a small dose at first to bother her, a stronger one to make her weak, and a deadly one to take her out."

Mac turned away. He couldn't believe he'd ever hired someone like this. "We'll have to postpone the trial," he mused, "We need to create a stronger defense, charge him with two counts of attempted murder."

Sheldon nodded and turned on his heel to leave the hospital. Mac looked down the hallway to see Danny sitting in a chair outside of Lindsay's room, looking in through the glass sadly.


End file.
